Man, is this ever true. Honestly, how are we supposed to get worked up about a holiday that is essentially a bit of clerical work? The numbers change. Big effin deal, or "w00t," as the kids might say.

I do have a "Death of the Holidays" tradition, whereby I go to the nearest casino and play blackjack until my cash stack has tripled or I am flat fucking broke. Last year, I succeeded in my endeavor to get rich quick and proceeded to buy myself all the things that I really wanted for Christmas, but were so impractical that no one got them for me. So, you know, that was a good year. The downside is that when I fail at this insane goal (which is obviously more often than not), my cat and I have to fight for food.

And she doesn't always lose. Oh no. She's sneaky.

I've been to Times Square twice for New Years celebrations, and it's a little bit odd how divergent the two experiences were. The first time, eight goddamn years ago, I was about nine blocks back from the ball-dropping action, standing inside a metal cordon with none other than Mr. Paul Lucci. This was actually out of the ordinary for us; we lived in different parts of the country and weren't the bestest buddies that we are now. Anyway, it was freezing and damp and that girl from Florida refused to make out with me. You know who you are. We wound up taking a train back to Long Island at like 3 in the morning, and it sucked.

The next time I was in NYC for NYE, it was actually quite spectacular. Ben, a long time acquaintance and inspiration, knew someone who knew someone who had a penthouse apartment seven blocks back from Times Square, and they were having a party. So this time around there was a balcony view, a warm place to sit and a bottle of Jack Daniel's. That's a fucking celebration, bitches. Of course, I discovered something new that evening, and I think it might go on a T-Shirt some day.

"Hell is not pools of fire nor chains of ice. It is being in a New York penthouse on New Year's Eve with ten gorgeous women. And their boyfriends."

Maybe not a shirt. Maybe a coffee mug or something.

We've got one more comic in the pipe from our "Holidays and Deadlines" line of products. Trust me. You'll know it when you see it.